


A Connection of Minds

by PixelTheDragon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Mind Invasion, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-20 19:04:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16561535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PixelTheDragon/pseuds/PixelTheDragon
Summary: Harry is hearing things, they sound like somebody else's thoughts, somebody he knew.Just my first fanfiction. (Prepare yourself kids, It's gonna be bad!). This will be a Snarry, the Harry Potter X Severus Snape pairing.





	1. Chapter 1

There was next to no noise in the dungeons, more specifically, Professor Snape's quarters. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire in the rather old and ornate fireplace, the scratching of a quill on some poor, unsuspecting student's essay and the occasional ruffling of parchment as another is selected and a subsequent child's dreams are crushed.

Snape was indeed so extremely focused on the task at hand that he failed to notice the missing noise in his quiet chambers.

It was rather late when the final parchment lay, marked, on his desk, which had about as much colour as his robes. This would be the moment when any normal human would have yawned, gotten up and retired for the night. But, as most of the people who know him will tell you, Severus Snape didn't really fit into that category as he was anything but normal. He did, however, put down his quill, stopper his pot of red ink that often showed up in first years' nightmares and glanced up from where he sat to look at the time.

Only to notice that his clock was not where it usually was. In fact, As Snape's eyes glided across the dim room, it was nowhere to be seen. The black matte wood clock was missing from its spot on the wall. He lay back in his chair, crossed his arms and tried to think, in the many years that he had taught at Hogwarts, when he had ever even so much as touched the thing. He had certainly never taken it down. He tried to think of why it could possibly have been removed.

After a few minutes of intense concentration, he gave up and decided to give it some serious thought after his classes tomorrow. And he was going to need all the strength he could get as they were going to announce the Triwizard Tournament Champions at breakfast the next morning. Therefore his students were sure to be utterly useless and brain-dead after all the excitement that someone was definitely going to severely harm themselves and their classmates in that days potions lessons.

Well, somewhat more useless and brain-dead then they usually were, anyway.

Despite the missing clock, the professor had quite nice quarters. He was currently in his living room where he did most of his work, it was where he sat by the fire, reading a good book and sipping, very rarely, some hot chocolate. It was where he wrote his papers on his discoveries in his area of potions, and where he read his fellow dark arts enthusiast's findings and breakthroughs.

His favorite black armchair was accompanied by a similar seating accommodation as well as a matching couch. He had a rather large black and white fireplace that, as mentioned before, had carvings all around the edge and a big grey hearth rug that went up to the back of his couch that was still incredibly soft after all the years. The walls, worn from the centuries of supporting the massive castle, were hung with tapestries with soft grey and green depictions of God knew what, the Slytherin banner and the place where his darn clock use to hang.

Oh, and the bookshelves.

The whole back wall was dedicated to books. They ranged from the usual things you'd expect from the severe potions master to the complete of William Shakespeare. He had everything under the sun, if the Sun was small, white and only came out at night. While he did sometimes need to venture out to Hogwarts' impressive library, usually the restricted section, for some of the more obscure or old books, but he did pride himself on his collection. 

Well, not knowing the time, Snape had to go with his internal clock. And it was telling him that it was quite late and right now was a really good time to sleep. So, he got up from his desk and traveled across the darkened living room with long strides, passing the suspiciously empty clock-less spot on the wall, toward his equally dark bedroom to pass out for a few hours.

In the Gryffindor tower, the sleeping form of Harry Potter rolled over and, rather strangely, dreamt about time.


	2. Chapter 2: it begins (flashback)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is some context, what happened that kicked off the plot, if you will. In this fic, the triwizard tournament starts 2 weeks into the school year, not instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo, a much longer chapter, twice as long as the first!  
> Hope you all like this one, I worked hard on it.  
> I’m really looking for constructive criticism so If you see something i could improve, don’t hesitate!  
> Also, please point out spelling mistakes, I don’t have a beta so it would help loads!

One week before

UwU

The bright light shone through the high tower's windows, rousing the five teenage roommates to the morning hours of Saturday. Harry stretched his stiff muscles and pulled back the curtains from around his four-poster. He lay there for a few more minutes, just observing the swirling, twinkling dust particles trapped in the spotlight of the sun beams. Everyone else seem to have had the same idea, just staying in bed until forced to do otherwise.

It was Ron's hunger that finally got Harry out of bed, and the two of them got dressed, leaving behind Seamus and Dean, who were talking about a new issue of Seamus' football magazine or something of the like, and Neville, who was pruning a strange, glowing blue flower he had gotten from Professor Sprout to care for.

The two descended toward the Great Hall and toward the delicious aroma of breakfast. According to Harry's watch, it was 8:25. 

Their last year at Hogwarts had only started a week ago but Saturday was already a welcome break. There was the customary chatter as students made their way to and from the relatively busy hall and the two friends found an empty spot at the long Gryffindor table. They tucked in to the amazing food and chatted about nothing. Like the transfiguration homework Professor McGonagall has given them already, or the charm they had to learn that temporarily gives water a mind if its own.

Ron showed incredible restraint when he stopped chewing for a second and swallowed the sausage he had been eating.  
"Hey Harry, where do you think Hermione's got to? She wasn't in the tower was she?" He said.

"No, she wasn't in the common room, but knowing her she probably ate ages ago and went to research charms in the library." Replied Harry.

Ron groaned. "Can't she take a break? We've only been back a week! It's Saturday, for Pete's sake!"

Harry chuckled. "I doubt she'll take a break for anyone's sake, Pete's or otherwise. I'm surprised you're still chocked that Hermione likes being on top of her homework, It is our NEWT year after all. She'll probably be on our case about schoolwork."

"You're right, but I will always be astounded by the fact she wastes her Saturday on studying." said Ron, going back to his food.

The two had matured a lot over the summer, though Hermione had a big hand in this, and had turned into respectable young adults. Though Ron still had a rocky relationship with homework.

 

Harry looked around the hall at all the students that came back to Hogwarts for another year of magical education, despite the looming threats present in the wizarding world. He could appreciate their courage, Gryffindor or not. Speaking of Gryffindor, two of the new years, Jamie Gooden and Ben Dillsworth, were telling jokes to the great amusement of some other of the younger students. It appears that they would take over from the previous two biggest jokers of Hogwarts, Fred and George.

Other notable first years included Nell and Susie Dougherty, Gryffindor twins, who's mother was an amazing auror and father a famous quidditch player, Tiggy Aveston, a Ravenclaw, who got in with a scholarship after coming top in her school exams at age 7, Molly Kimbery, a muggleborn cousin twice removed of Hermione's, Abigail Hitchmough, a Slytherin, with noble heritage due to her father being a great great descendant of Merlin. And then there was Renee. Renee Swindells was a new Hufflepuff with nothing incredible about her family. She was just quite crazy. It had only been a few days, but all the other students knew that you didn't mess with Renee. 

At the staff table were the teachers Harry had known for the past six years, apart from the expected new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. This year, Dumbledore, who was currently eating a piece toast covered in four different kinds of jam, under the disproving eye of McGonagall, had found Johnathan Burr. Who was the very definition of average. Average height, build, face, brown hair, blue eyes. But he seemed to know his stuff in class so Harry felt silently relieved. 

The other professors were all looking themselves. Professor Flitwick, sitting on three cushions so as to be at the same height as his fellow instructors, was talking amiably with Professor Vector, Professor Burbage was spreading Nutella on her muffins, Professor Sinistra was looking suspiciously at the nut spread, Professor Sprout was having a silent conversation with Professor Hooch across the table and Professor Trelawney was shuffling her tarot cards and muttering to herself.  
At the very end of the table sat their very own potions master, the ever-scowling Severus Snape. 

Ron coughed, trying to get the attention of his wandering-eyed friend. "So Harry, you gonna finish that? We've got a friend to drag out of the library." 

Harry quickly faced his best mate and looked down at his bowl. He still had some cereal but it had gotten soggy by now. "Nah, let's go."

They walked out of the hall, unconscious of the pairs of eyes upon them. Two Slytherins watched them leave, one arrogant student and one sour teacher.  
Deep down in his soul, Snape knew Harry was going to do something idiotic.

They made their way to the impressive  
library, thinking of ways they would get Hermione to give up the books. They walked between the tall bookshelves weighed down with centuries of knowledge.  
And there she was, face hidden in a particularly thick book, Hermione Granger, the most studious student of Hogwarts. 

"Hermione! Run! library is on fire!" Yelled Ron, suddenly running toward her table.  
Hermione jumped a foot of her chair and emitted a high pitch squeal, a look of pure terror on her face. She looked around and saw Ron and Harry, doubled over with laughter and her expression quickly turned murderous.  
She chucked the book she had been reading at Ron with all her strength and it flew straight at his face.

Only Ron's fast reflexes saved his hide, as he pulled out his wand and deflected the book with a quick flick. The book sailed over his head, then over several rows of book shelves, landing with a muffled thud in the far side of the room.

"RONALD WEASLEY! You do not joke about that!" Hermione yelled at the top of her lungs. Harry was certain they would be banned from the library for life at this rate but Mrs. Pince seemed mercifully absent. Which was admittedly strange but he wasn't going to question it. 

  As Ron and Hermione were having a rather violent bickering match, Harry decided to extricate himself silently from between the two of them. He quite liked his face just the way it was and he didn't need another scar, that's for sure. 

He decided he would go fetch the book that had found itself forcefully launched quite a way away. Harry tip toed away and found himself walking down row after row of very old books, the farther he went the seemingly older they got. Soon, all he could hear were his own loud footsteps, the library being empty on a Saturday morning. Still no book made an appearance on the floor.  
Harry wondered where Mrs. Pince had gone, he had found it weird that she had not heard the yelling but she would have been apoplectic if she had caught them tossing a book like that. Still, there wasn't a soul in sight.

 

Snape had perfected talent for silent stalking as he followed the young man through the library, staying two rows away at all times. He had the uncanny ability to sense any dangers that might befall the boy and his senses were on alert that morning. And so he followed, waiting. He didn't have to wait long.

 

Abigail Hitchmough was just a first year Slytherin, but she wanted to prove herself. Draco Malfoy was uncontested as the most important Slytherin, he was feared by his peers, especially the younger years, and was always to be obeyed. If Abi could just get him to notice her, she would be in his good books. Her dad had always told her that she needed to be a leader, she needed to be recognised and admired, envied even. How better to do that than to hurt the precious golden Gryffindor?

All the Slytherins would worship her for years to come and she would get the attention of Malfoy Jr.  
She saw him enter the library with he red haired boy, where the two of them met up with the bushy haired girl.  
She just had to wait for him to be on his own, then she would strike. Abi had read countless books on dark magic in her dad'd library, and she'd found a spell that would could cause unimaginable mental pain on somebody. It was untreatable as it wasn't physical and it could last days. Most went mad after three days of this.

She had run and hid behind the bookshelf where the book had landed and waiting patiently for her prey to come to her. She heard his footsteps coming closer and she clutched her wand tightly in her hand. As Harry turned the corner and had released an "Ah ha!" of triumph, the small girl had jumped out from behind the books and brandished her wand at him. But her mind drew a blank, she couldn't remember the whole spell.

Harry just stared a her, a confused look on his face. "Um, can I help yo-"  
Well, something was better than nothing, so she yelled something that sounded vaguely like the spell.

"Cruciati amini!" 

  Snape jumped behind Harry but he was too late, the spell hit the boy square in the face, and as he pushed him out of the way, received a shot to the side of the head.

  Abigail froze. She had not meant to hit her head of house, too. So she ran for it, rushing past books and toward the open double doors. She left the two wizards behind, lying unconscious on the library floor, Snape his arm over the boy in a protective embrace.

She was in trouble now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Review if you enjoyed and want to see more!


	3. Chapter 3: Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of headaches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long and confusing chapter so strap in people, it's gonna be a bumpy ride XD

Still a flashback (a week ago)

UwU

Harry woke up, dazed, in the hospital wing. He tried to get up but was overwhelmed by a stabbing pain inside his skull. Like a wave on a beach, crashing down upon him and pulling back, leaving a dull throbbing behind. He put a hand on his forehead and groaned. This attracted the attention of Madam Pomfrey. Though Harry couldn't see, due to him lacking his glasses, the matron picked somethings up from the small table in front of her and walked over to him with a glass of water and a wet cloth.

"Ah, Harry, I see you've finally woken up." She said, in her motherly tone. "Here, you'd better drink this, you've been burning up all day." She said, handing him the glass of water and swatting his hand away to put the cool cloth on his head instead.

Harry thanked her and closed his eyes again, trying to get his brain back in order. How did he get here? How long had he been here? Why did he have such a bad headache? He gratefully gulped down the water, calming the storm inside of him. Opening his eyes, he spotted his glasses on the small nightstand beside him. He grabbed them and put them back on, making the world a whole lot clearer.

Being slightly calmer now, he sat up successfully this time, looking around the room. It was all but empty (And I mean really, how many injuries can there be in the first week back?), apart for Renee, the crazy Hufflepuff, who tripped and fell of the astronomy tower and only lived because a fifth year Slytherin prefect, Mia Mcavinchey, happened to be up there. The girl waved at him. Harry waved back.

He was still very confused, however. What had happened? "Excuse me, Madam Pomfrey, but how did I get here?"

She glanced over her shoulder at him from bed next to his, that she was making as it appeared to have been recently used.

"Well, you see dear, Severus brought you here, unconscious and with a bad fever. He says you were attacked by another student, the identity of whom you alone are privy too, in the library this morning. You seemed to be in great pain but there was nothing either of us could do for you, none of the pain relief potions were working. You've been here maybe 4 hours now." She explained, a hint of pain in her eyes at her failure to help a student.

It all came rushing back to him now. He was in the library with Ron and Hermione, and a book was thrown. They were fighting so he decided to go fetch it before Mrs. Pince crucified them, but when he got there... When he got there... Nothing. He couldn't remember the rest. All he could recall was a blinding pain erupting in his head and someone grabbing his arm before he lost consciousness. That was it. The nurse had said that it was Snape that brought him here, and that he was supposedly attacked by a student. But there was every possibility he was lying.

It couldn't have been Snape that attacked him, could it?

No, he wouldn't have done it at Hogwarts, or in such a public place as the library. The man wasn't daft, and he had brought him up to the infirmary, a strange to do had it been him the attacker. Also Harry had no doubt that if he was in was a 1 on 1 duel with Snape, he wouldn't have woken up. But who could have wanted to harm him. Instantly, a list came to mind. Draco Malfoy would have loved to get his perfectly manicured mitts on him, or any other of the Slytherins for that matter, trying to get in good with the deatheaters.

He found that hard to believe as, again, he wasn't in a coffin six feet below the ground, and it would have been nothing short of a miracle if had he survived the killing curse again. Then he remembered, Ron and Hermione had been there. Maybe Hermione had seen somebody enter the library, as it was a safe to assume she had been there for a while.

"When will I able to leave? I need to go see Hermione quite urgently" Harry asked, kicking off the blankets .

"Just you wait, young man! I can't let you leave until I know you wont collapse on us again. Do you feel any pain?" She asked, concerned.

"I feel fine, just a bit of a headache, I'll live." He said, dismissively. "But thank you for everything."

He got up made toward the double doors at a brisk walk.

"Do come back if you're ever in too much pain, Harry!" She yelled at his back.

"Always, Madam Pomfrey!"

As soon as he was out the doors, he booked it to the Gryffindor common room.

UwU

Present day (A week later)

UwU

Durmstrang and Beauxbaton had arrived.

The Champion selection was only minutes away.

The tables were buzzing with excitement as the name drawing drew ever closer. It was as if electricity were coursing through the great hall. Everyone looked on at the goblet full of blue flames as if all the secrets of the universe were contained within it. Apart from one Severus Snape. 

Ever since that day in the library, he had been steadily growing more and more tired. No one had noticed yet, but his step sometimes faltered as he walked, he sometimes mucked up when he spoke. This was very unusual. He was used to functioning on 4 hours of sleep sometimes, now no matter how long he slept, he always woke up more tired than the day before. He could hardly teach, just put up instructions on the board and pretend to grade essays while he was really sleeping with his eyes open. He also had to stop brewing potions, for fear he would lose his concentration and the potion would blew up on him.

Something was seriously wrong and he couldn't figure out what it was, which was not something he enjoyed. And as he sat there in the great hall, the yelling students were giving him one hell of a headache. He felt angry and exhausted at the same time, and his head felt like an overstuffed turkey. _Why do they have to be so loud?_ He thought to himself.

Little did Snape know, Harry, sitting at the Gryffindor table, right in the middle of the sea rambunctious students, was nursing his own impressive headache. He was just drinking pumpkin juice to avoid speaking to anybody when it hit him. It felt like his head was being split in half. He coughed pumpkin juice all over his robe and almost fell off the bench. It was more painful than when Voldemort was angry or even torturing people. It felt like someone was actively trying to force something into his abused brain.

Seamus, who happened to be sitting to his right, was the first to react. He whipped out his wand and yelled "Anapneo!". Harry's throat cleared instantly and he was left wheezing and gasping as half the table stared at him concerned. He didn't even notice their stares as one sentence wedged itself into his brain.

_Why do they have to be so loud?_

Just then Dumbledore, stood up. It was time to announce the Champions. The hall went deathly silent and Harry thanked the gods for the distraction. Only Ron and Hermione shot him a concerned looks before turning to listen to the Headmaster.

"Students, from Hogwarts or abroad, the time has come to announce those who will have the privilege to represent their schools in this historical tournament. I trust you have all of you who are of age have placed your names into the goblet? We wouldn't want any tears over such a... slip of the mind." He announced, a smile on his face.

No one moved for a second, then a Durmstrang boy got up, clutching a paper in his hand, and ran the length of the hall to throw his name into the goblet. He had apparently been sleeping when the rest of his school had placed theirs. All his peers laughed themselves to tears as he walked back to the Slytherin table, head bowed, beet red, in shame.

When they had calmed down somewhat, Dumbledore started speaking again. "That would have been unfortunate, but it's done now, and that's what counts" He chuckled "Well, I'm sure we have all been waiting long enough, let's see what the Goblet has to say. As soon as a Champion is called, they are prayed to go join the other chosen in the room behind the staff table."

He walked up to the great wooden cup and, with a wave of his hand, dampened the vast amount of candles in the hall. After a second, the darkened room was suddenly illuminated by bright red flames and sparks that flew everywhere. Out of the raging flame, a single piece of parchment shot out and fluttered downward into Dumbledore's open hand.

Thusly, all the champions were selected, Fleur Delacour for Beauxbaton, Viktor Krum for Durmstrang and Cedric Diggory for Hogwarts, but Harry could only vaguely hear what was going on. He clapped when everyone else did but it hurt to move. All sounds were muffled, as if he were hearing the world through several pillows. What was going on?

Suddently all the sounds stopped and there was blessed silence. Harry sighed in relief, until he saw every single face in the hall staring straight at him. Hermione's voice broke the silence "You're a champion, Harry." She whispered. But everyone heard it. You could have heard a pin drop in the hall. "W-what?" He stuttered. "But-" Hermione put a hand on his shoulder "Just go join the other Champions, we'll speak when you get back to the common room." She looked so serious, Harry just got up and staggered a few steps from the table. Everyone just stared at him, some gaping, some visibly livid, some confused, all silent. Judging.

Harry looked back at his friends. Ron just looked on with the rest, betrayal written across his features. Harry desperately wanted to tell them this was wrong, he wasn't a Champion, he hadn't even entered the competition! But his throat wasn't cooperating, his brain couldn't form words through the pain and confusion. So he just walked, on unsteady feet, his footsteps absurdly loud on the stone floor, toward the side room where the Champions had gathered.  
As soon as the door closed, he heard the hall erupt into chaos.

Something had gone seriously wrong. 

 

It was so sudden, the sleep that had plagued Snape for days lessened abruptly, it was as if he had gotten a full 8 hours of sleep in 2 seconds. He instantly sat up straighter, looked more alert and felt more energetic than he had in days. That's when the commotion at the Gryffindor table occurred, Potter had choked on his Pumpkin juice or some such unimportant event. What did he care?

Snape was going to figure out what was going on with this sleep business as soon as he got back to his rooms. He couldn't afford to be exhausted at all times. He could be called by the Dark Lord, and his position as a spy would be instantly known if he didn't have the strength to occlude his mind. He sat impatiently during the calling of the champions. He had a lot of research to do.

Then, Potter's name came out of the goblet, interrupting the Headmasters congratulatory speech and silencing the hall.

What had the idiotic boy got into now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment if you didn't understand a thing, I'll understand XD


	4. Chapter 4: Bedtime

No one believed him. 

Harry dragged himself into the Gryffindor common room a few hours after the feast and the argument that ensued in the room behind the staff table. There was a lot of yelling and confusion, but most present, the Headmaster, Harry's teachers, Karkaroff and Madam Maxime, Krum and Fleur, did not want Harry to compete. No one listened when Harry told them he had nothing to do with this, that he shared their opinion, That he hadn't entered his name, dammit. But they just cut him off. So he had just sat there in silence, as the adults argued. 

Eventually, Dumbledore had sent him to the tower, saying that he would talk to him in the next day to work something out. But Mr. Crouch had been quite clear, he had no choice, he had to take part in the tournament. So, Harry had left, feeling the gazes of the angry group on his back.

Hermione was sitting in an armchair by the fire, staring in to its depths, a million miles away, when Harry walked in and fell faced first onto the plush, comfortable couch. 

"What am I going to do, Hermione? I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for any of it!" He said, his voice muffled by the pillow his head rested on. "They all think I'm lying but never stop to listen to what I have to say. They treat me like a child." 

Hermione looked at him sadly. "I know, Harry, and I believe you. But it doesn't matter what others think, we just need to figure out who entered your name and why." She said kindly.

And so they brain stormed ideas for a while, one name coming up again and again. The tournament would be the perfect way to off someone in a non suspicious way, so why wouldn't some vengeful deatheaters give it their best shot. There were of course some logistical issues with this idea, such as how they got into the castle, but where there's a will, there's a way. In other words, if they really wanted to, they would have found a way to do it.

Harry looked at his watch, it was 12:45. 

"We should probably get some sleep, Harry" Said Hermione when he yawned for the 4th time in as many minutes."

"Yeah, you're right, I have a meeting with Dumbledore tomorrow and I wouldn't want to give them more reason to see me as a immature kid." Harry said, unable to contain his aggravation, with a scowl on his face.

So there he lay, In his bed, staring at the red canopy above him, unable to sleep. 

At the exact same moment, lower in the castle, Snape lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. He had taken 4 bottles of headache nullifier, going above the recommended dose of 1 sip, and a dreamless sleep for good measure, but nothing was working. The throbbing in his brain had started again after the blessed respite he had gotten in the great hall and there was nothing he could do about it. 

What had he done, then, that had triggered the headache and sleep to let up. He tried to recall the events that led up to that moment.

He had had another horrible day, sleep following him everywhere like a toxic shadow. He'd gone to the feast at the great hall for the selection of the champions, at which he felt he couldn't stomach anything, so there was no way it could have been something he ate. He had done nothing too out of the ordinary, he had complained about the students being to loud and aggravating his headache, then Potter had proceeded to choke on his food. That is all that happened leading up to the moment. 

Potter, who had managed to do the one thing thought impossible by everyone and entering the tournament, in which he could so easily get hurt or get killed! For the fame, obviously. Not that Snape cared overly much, but the boy did have a job to do. The 14 year old should really think about other people for once in his life. 

Snape got up, bored of the ceiling and his own thoughts getting worked up, which just made his brain throb harder. He winced. He'd had his fair share of migraines in his life but this was so much worse. He went to the bathroom and splashed some cold water on his face, not daring to look in the mirror. He knew he would look like a sleep deprived vampire. More than he usually did anyway. Big surprise, the water did nothing but wet him and frustrated. 

Honestly, it was all Potter's fault. If he hadn't been such a dunce and gotten attacked, needing Snape to save him, he wouldn't be in this state right now. It was always Harry Bloody Potter. _How self-centered can one person get?! I mean, why couldn't he just be a normal, rule-abiding chosen boy? Why did he have to have a deathwish and attract problems better than two opposing magne-"_ Snape abruptly stopped his internal rant when he met a wall. 

Not a physical one, a mental one. It was as if a part of mind had decided it had had enough and had closed for business. What the devil? This was absurd, he hadn't occluded himself but even then he would still have access to the locked off parts.

Snape tentatively reached out and lightly prodded the mental block. He was met with forceful rejection and pulled back immediately. Since when had his own mind ever started doing things independently? This was ridiculous, he was going mad. Either way, this wall had no right being there. This was his secret inner most sanctuary and he would not stand for it being violated! He prepared himself and threw the full force of all his years of legilimency at it.

 

 

It was just like in the great hall. He was fine one second then suddenly his head felt like someone was trying to force a wrecking ball into it. But this time it was more painful and it went on so much longer. It hurt so much. Harry gasped and sat up abruptly in his bed, unable to think of anything other than getting away from the pain. He didn't know what to do so he tried to close off his mind, just like when he hid in his cupboard from the Dursley's. 

To Harry's great surprise and relief, the pain stopped. He fell back onto his mattress, breathing heavily, thanking the gods he had put silencing charms around his bed so as not to wake his roommates if he had a particularly bad nightmare and woke up screaming. So as long as he kept his mind closed off at all times, he could avoid that awful head-splitting pain. He sighed and closed his eyes, prepared to try harder at falling sleep. 

But apparently the unknown force had other plans and, in a rush of sudden, blistering force, his walls were under attack. He put all his strength behind his defenses, his sheets bunched up in his clenched fists, but it wasn't enough. The harder he fought back the more painful it got. Every second his defenses get weaker. He swore he felt a tear run down his cheek before his walls crumbled, and a rush of something foreign invaded his mind. 

Harry just sat on his bed, frozen, as some invisible presence just sat there in his head. What was apparently becoming his mantra, what is going on? came to mind first. He didn't have the strength to do anything to defend himself, the thing seemed to be sapping his energy and he was getting very tired, so he silently willed it to go away.

_I don't have time for this, I need to sleep, I'll figure it out in the morning, if ever._

What? The words rang out loud and clear in Harry's mind. He was so confused. It sounded like someone else's thoughts. Everything about this was absurd, and despite living a life like his, the absurd was something he still found, well, absurd. So, he took a different approach.

**_Umm, Hello?_** He thought as loud as he could, then cringed. If it ever got out that he was speaking to himself, he would be buying himself a one way ticket to the nearest asylum. He did not need this in the Daily Prophet. But there was no answer from the presence.

So he gently tried to push it out of his mind, as if he were nearing a wild animal. The thing did not appreciate it. 

_Don't._

**_But this is my mind!_** Harry yelled at it, silently. But it seemed to be unable to hear him. Harry felt so tired he decided to drop it, he'd just do what the thing had suggested, for its own benefit, but Harry found it to be a sound plan nonetheless. Tomorrow, he's evict his mind freeloader. Tomorrow... And he drifted off into restful sleep.

 

 

After only a few seconds, he felt the wall in his mind come crashing down. Suddenly his headache vanished and he felt too many things at the same time, confusion being the most prominent, emanating from the place. None of this he wanted to process right then. I don't have time for this, I need to sleep, I'll figure it out in the morning, if ever.

 

However something stopped him, there was no way to describe it accurately, the place. Underneath all the swirling emotions was a place of deep calm. Like walking to the middle of a forest, into a clearing, and all the sounds just stop. All is left is you, and a realm of eternal peace. Snape had never felt so completely and utterly at a loss like this. His first thought was that he wanted to stay here forever, and never go back to his own life, full of pain and misery. 

Then he felt the place start to push him out again. _Don't_. He knew it couldn't answer but he couldn't stop himself. But to his surprise, it stopped. Snape staggered back to his bed, lay down and fell straight into the best sleep he'd ever had.

He needed to be here, he needed to stay.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've got any constructive criticism or ideas, I'd love to hear them!


End file.
